


For We are True, Whatever You Do

by enigma731, invisibledaemon



Series: The 12 Days of Chris Muss [11]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Banter, Childhood Memories, Developing Relationship, F/M, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 01:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13020168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigma731/pseuds/enigma731, https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisibledaemon/pseuds/invisibledaemon
Summary: "What is it?" asks Gamora, standing on tiptoe to look over his shoulder."A yo-yo," says Peter, pressing the side to see if it still works. It does, and he laughs in delight when the disk drops down, hanging by a thread of light, then flies back up when he flicks his wrist. It's a lot more high-tech than the ones on Earth, but the same principle. "I saw it in a junker shop, the first time Yondu took me along."





	For We are True, Whatever You Do

He finds it in the remains of the Ravager rec room, which resembles a dump more than an actual leisure space. Gamora’s insisted that they tackle it as their next project in fixing up the Quadrant, and he begrudgingly has to agree that they probably should clean it before something actually starts growing in here.

The first few piles he goes through contain a range of junk, some bits more disgusting than others. So it’s a surprise when he picks up a scrap of fabric that may or may not be a _really_ old pair of underwear and gets smacked in the face by nostalgia. For a moment he just pauses, then reaches out with shaking fingers and his heart in his throat, picking up the dirty yellow disk he’s just uncovered and holding it delicately in his palm.

"What is it?" asks Gamora, apparently picking up on the change in his breathing, or something. She’s been working on the other side of the room, but now she closes the distance between them, standing on tiptoe to look over his shoulder.

"A yo-yo," says Peter, pressing the side to see if it still works. It does, and he laughs in delight when the disk drops down, hanging by a thread of light, then flies back up when he flicks his wrist. It's a lot more high-tech than the ones on Earth, but the same principle. "I saw it in a junker shop, the first time Yondu took me along. Told me nine was too old for toys, but when we got back to the ship, he waited til the other Ravagers weren't around then took it out of his pocket and handed it to me."

She furrows her brow in that curious-but-lost look he’s come to love so much. “What sort of toy is it?”

"A yo-yo!" he repeats, way too excited about such a tiny thing. "Look." He drops it and tugs it up again by the string of light, then holds it out to her. "Try it, it's fun!"

She attempts to imitate the movement he's just made, but the yo-yo just drops to a few inches above the ground and hangs there.

"Is it a trick?" she asks, frowning a bit as she looks back up at Peter.

"There is a bit of a trick to it." He moves to stand behind her and presses a button on the disk to snap it back up. "That's just to reset it," he explains, carefully covering her hand with his, standing pressed up against her back with his other hand on her waist.

"Drop it again," he says softly, biting back a grin, again far more excited than the situation should really warrant.

Gamora does as he's instructed, waiting with uncharacteristic patience for him to show her whatever trick he's up to.

As soon as the light-string has fully extended he flicks their wrists, bringing it back up to her hand. "See?" he says in a low voice. He strokes his thumb along her waist over her shirt and doesn't bother to hold back a smile; flirting with her is just too fun. "You try." He moves his hand off hers, resting it lightly on her forearm instead.

It takes her a few more tries, which gives Peter more satisfaction than it probably should. He wants her to succeed, of course, but it’s nice to occasionally have a skill she doesn’t instantly best him at. Plus it’s fun watching her -- the look of concentration that settles over her face, the grace in the curve of her wrist as she moves it, and finally the immense sense of satisfaction in her triumphant grin when the thing springs back up into her hand.

She looks back up at Peter. “Got it! I have bested the yo-yo.”

Peter laughs, matching her grin, and doesn’t bother to tell her that yo-yo’s really aren’t to be _bested_. "Isn't it fun? The ones on Earth just had a regular string, but it was still nice to have something relatively familiar."

"Did you have other toys?" she asks, flicking the yo-yo out and back again.

"A few," he says, resting his chin on her shoulder and watching her play. "I lost most of them, or just got bored of them -- like this one. I must have left it on the ship after I moved out."

"Tell me about moving out," says Gamora, moving the yo-yo faster as she learns its intricacies.

"Well, I was technically sixteen when I moved onto the Milano permanently," he says. "But I'd been sleeping on it instead of the Eclector since I was thirteen, and I snuck off on my own a lot starting at about fifteen. Eventually Yondu just said we might as well make it official and get me out of their hair. As long as I kept working for them, of course."

"Was that a typical age?" she asks. "For your people?"

"No, usually it was eighteen." He finally straightens, reluctantly sliding his hands off her waist and moving to face her instead. "But I was eager to get out."

"Because of the way they treated you?" she asks, holding the yo-yo still in her palm as the conversation shifts.

"Yeah." He sighs, rocking a bit on the balls of his feet. "I don't normally like to be by myself, but it was preferable to being with the Ravagers all the time.”

"It's funny to me," Gamora says thoughtfully. "You often talk about things you do or don't 'normally' like. Or 'normally' do. I don't have any idea of what is or is not normal for me."

"You'll figure it out," Peter says confidently, though there's a fresh ache in his chest for her. "Once you've had more time to get used to your new normal. And I know there's already a couple of things you normally do or don't like."

"What are those?" she asks, tilting her head as she watches him.

"Well." He holds out his hand, waits for her to give the yo-yo back to him, then plays with it absently as he speaks, the repetitive motion soothing. "You normally don't like coffee, unless you had trouble sleeping. You usually wear your hair down unless you're working out or doing something else where it might get in the way, like fixing up the ship. You like animals, as long as they're not the kind that slither. You'll eat warm soup but you prefer it hot -- like, absurdly hot. You offered to share some of yours with me once and I thought it was going to burn through my tongue."

“My physiology is different from yours,” says Gamora, though she’s smiling a little, clearly remembering the faces he’d made on that occasion.

“You really like pink,” Peter continues. “Really bright pink, like your hair. You also like stealing my clothes, and the blankets when you think I’m asleep and won’t notice.”

The corners of her lips twitch ever so slightly. “Now I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Also you’re ticklish,” says Peter, “but you like to insist that you’re not.”

“No idea,” she repeats, but she instinctively takes a step back, apparently knowing what’s coming.

He follows, reaching out to poke her side. He doesn’t succeed in making contact, unsurprisingly, but he _does_ make her jump away and roll her eyes.

“All right,” says Gamora, clearing her throat in an attempt to be stern. It’s slightly undercut by the the glint of mischief in her eyes, though. “Back to cleaning.”

Peter sighs, shaking his head. “Okay, okay. I’m going.”


End file.
